


Changing

by Kariachi



Series: Souls & Switches [2]
Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Families of Choice, Gen, Introspection, children in prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kariachi/pseuds/Kariachi
Summary: Kevin pointedly watches their fellow prisoners mill about. It’s been a week since he finally returned to human shape and the response has been…Mixed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> McDuffie one noted that the reason Kevin has different shorts on in the "...Nor Iron Bars a Cage" flashback that during the original series was because at one point he reverted back from his monstrous mutation. I'm working with the idea that that happened while he was imprisoned.

Sat in the shadows beside a broken piece of work-out equipment, legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, Kevin pointedly watches their fellow prisoners mill about. It’s been a week since he finally returned to human shape and the response has been…

Mixed.

Some of the other prisoners had been shocked to see how small he is, underfed and unhealthy, and have been eying them with worry. That’s fine. Others didn’t care before and don’t care now. Also fine. But some, too many for his taste, are quickly beginning to look at them like they’re easy pickings. Especially the people Kevin beat up when they got here. Those are the ones he watches. The ones Annelie watches.

She takes forms to ward them off now; where before she’d spent her time whispering in his ear, with Kevin being so small and they and their daemons typically being so large in comparison they want them to stay at bay. Nothing big, a year alone of the streets taught them better than that. A form too big is as clearly a sign of fear and weakness as a daemon too small, neither a tiger nor mouse will do. She takes moderately-sized forms, but dangerous ones. Skunk. Badger. Magpie. Hawk. Creatures smaller in size that the others around, but clear in their threat.

Right now she’s a cat, the spitting image of a barn cat they remembered from their grandparents’ farm. A big tabby tom with a tattered ear who’d lash at their cousins but curl purring in Kevin’s lap, flicking his tail for Annelie to chase as a chipmunk or sparrow.

“What is she today?” Kevin feels Kwarrel and Hejer coming before he hears them, their footfalls heavy on the floor. Annelie darts away to rub herself around Hejer’s ankles.

“A barn cat,” Kevin says with a smile as the old prisoner sits down to his left, his daemon collapsing beside him with a bang. Kwarrel smiles back.

“I take it that’s different from a wild cat?” Grinning wider, Kevin nods. Like every child they’d had a big book of animals at home, and like everyone else they’d started at aardvark and worked all the way down to zebra finch, testing every shape to see if it fit. They’ve remembered them all. He stretches some as Annelie rushes back to him, curling up in his lap as he scratches behind her ear.

“Lower, Kev.”

“People breed barn cats,” Kevin says as he obliges his daemon, “keep them around to kill pests.” There he glares out the corner of his eye at someone who’s passing too close with their massive predator daemon, a beast more teeth than fur. Kwarrel gives them a stern look as they hurry by faster.

“But it’s not the right shape yet,” he says knowingly once they’ve gone, his own large hand coming to rest between Hejer’s horns.

“No, not yet.” Really they have no idea what they’ll be yet. They’re only eleven, there’s still years before they can expect to settle- (though some of the grown prisoners are surprised they aren’t settled yet, say the sort’ve things that get you sent here should’ve settled them early, they try not to listen; they don’t want to be abnormal, even here)- but just old enough that she might begin narrowing her forms down into something closer to what she’ll be. Not that she has. She likes to be cats and weasels and birds and occasionally buffalo if Hejer will play with her.

Kevin leans forward to look at the other daemon from around Kwarrel’s bulk. She’s massive and grey, like somebody shrunk a rhino down and crossed it with some strange prehistoric beast. Placid and wise and always watching with big eyes the color of river mud. The form is relatively new, he knows. Other, older prisoners talk about when Kwarrel came to the prison, a mass of teeth and claws at his side. About years of fights and talks and solitary confinement and how she became calmer and gentler until one day he stepped out with a new soul beside him.

He’d asked once how he managed it, after all adults’ daemons didn’t go around changing, but Kwarrel had just patted his head and told him that life and souls were never as simple as people made them seem.

As far as Kevin and Annelie are concerned this was a cop-out answer.

“You have plenty of time,” the old man laughs, “don’t stress about it.” He sighs and leans back, eyes scanning the room. Hejer’s tail flicks. “How are you holding up?”

Annelie makes a confused sound and they both blink. Kevin’s first thought is to point out that they were trapped in the Null Void before they were locked up, and alone on the street before that. Prison is harder in some ways yes, there’s no freedom and they’re surrounded by creatures they don’t recognize, all of which are older than then, almost all by a decade or more, all potential threats, but it’s the first time in what feels like ages they’ve had a bed and a roof and no worries about getting food.

He knows better though. That’s not what Kwarrel is talking about, and the way Hejer lifts her head to look them over with concern proves it. They’ve been hovering since he shifted back, since it became clear that they weren’t late blooming teens but children. The times during the day they’ve not been close, at least within thirty feet, have been few and far between, and Kevin knows that the fact they’re cells are in different halls nags at them.

Kwarrel has growled about the Plumbers letting a pair so young be here to Hejer more than once when he thinks they aren’t paying attention.

Slipping from his grasp, Annelie heads back around Kwarrel’s knees towards Hejer. She shifts halfway there, into a small, red-brown creature, like a cross between a weasel and a possum, that Kevin is certain he knows but can’t quite name. Some sort’ve mongoose he thinks.

“We’re fine,” she says as she bounds up the large herbivore’s side, settling in a deep wrinkle. “Pelloe tried to start trouble this morning, but I turned into a cassowary and _nobody_ messes with a cassowary.” The other daemon chuckles and nods, laying her head back down, and Kwarrel gives Kevin a questioning look.

“Big bird,” the boy says, spreading his arms wide for emphasis, “sharp claws, bad temper.” This time Kwarrel laughs and gently claps a hand to Kevin’s shoulder.

“Sometimes,” he says, “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you.”

On instinct Kevin’s gut clenches- they’ve heard that too often in their lives, been hearing it for far too long- and his smile falters. But Kwarrel is still smiling, and Hejer isn’t tense. There’s no lightning design in furniture, or silver hands stuffed guiltily into pockets, or lights flickering because they snuck into the living room to watch a scary movie. Hejer is yawning and Kwarrel is smiling, a look in his eyes that’s a lot happy and really sad at the same time.

It’s not an expression Kevin recognizes, but he thinks he likes it.

Kevin grins wider and scrambles to his feet.

“Hey, come see this,” he says, rounding the broken equipment, “I’ve been practicing!”


End file.
